Ink
by Barnabas C
Summary: The war is over, and two old lovers reunite...


**Ink**

Shepard piled the two plates with food, scooped them up off the kitchen counter, and walked the short distance to the dining room table. "Eat up."

"Mmm," Jack said, grabbing a fork and digging right in. "Looks great. Knew there was a reason I took you home with me."

"It's powdered milk and powdered eggs," Shepard pointed out as she slid into her own seat, amazed that anyone could muster up that much excitement for it. "The only reason we don't have powdered toast is that they've still yet to figure out how to powder bread. Maybe for the next war."

"Hey, I've eaten shit you wouldn't even believe," the other woman told her, not shy in the least about talking with her mouth full. "And I've gone days at a time without even getting that much. This is a fucking five-star meal as far as I'm concerned. Can't wait to see what you can do once we start getting some decent ingredients around here."

"That might be a while," Shepard reminded. The Reapers had devastated much of Earth's infrastructure, and the ability to produce and distribute food at anything like pre-war levels might be years away. But she smiled and accepted the compliment as she began on her own breakfast.

Between bites, she alternated between staring out the window at the gray London morning, and sneaking glances at the woman seated across the table from her. She'd never let herself think ahead to 'after the war' while she was fighting it, because that was one of the surest ways possible to guarantee you'd never make it that far, but if she had, she was pretty sure that 'roommates with Jack' wouldn't have even have made the top hundred list of possibilities. This foul-mouthed, tattooed, half-bald woman hadn't saved her life, but she'd saved Shepard's sanity. Those endless days in that hospital bed, recovering from her injuries, her decision on the Citadel and the unknown fate of her crew eating away at her.

And along had come Jack. Moving herself right in to the hospital room, doing whatever she could to lift Shepard's spirits, or even just sitting silently with her when she sensed that was what was called for on a given day. Paying absolutely no heed to the repeated, "Fuck off, Jack," "Go away, Jack," and "Leave me alone, Jack," demands Shepard made of her. And eventually Jack had worn her down, and gotten her to begin talking to the hospital psychiatrist.

It had been six months now since she'd been found sane enough to be released, and six months of the two of them sharing this apartment. Six months of no electricity, sitting around the living room every night telling stories-about their pasts, about what they'd each done all day, or even just made-up scary stories when the flickering candlelight and creepy shadows on the walls put them in the mood. And the other amazing development Shepard could never have imagined just a year ago? Jack had become, by far, the best friend she'd ever had.

"Hey, Shepard?"

The sound of Jack's voice brought her back to the present. "Yeah?"

"You know what 'subtlety' is? 'Cause you don't have any. I see the way you keep looking at me. And I don't care how hot you are or how much you feed me-I'm still not going to bed with you."

Shepard gave a little snort of laughter. "Right. Because you're not a 'girls club' girl. Sorry-I forgot." They didn't have many secrets left from each other by this point, and she'd learned months ago how much of a lie _that_ statement had been.

Jack shrugged. "Hey, I thought you were coming on to me. You seemed like the kind of classy chick who'd want way more from someone than just a one- or two-time fuck, and I wasn't interested in anything that serious. I was letting you down easy."

The commander gagged a little on her milk. "That was you letting me down easy?"

"Uh… yeah."

"You sort of suck at it."

"Fuck you-it was my first time, okay?"

"Well, I'm flattered you cared about my feelings enough to even try."

They both laughed and went back to the last of their breakfasts. Shepard stopped peeking across the table.

When they'd finished, Jack stood and began clearing the dishes, and Shepard rose to put away the portable cooker.

There was a knock on the door, and the two of them traded confused looks. They each had important roles in the rebuilding effort, and people were constantly trying to get ahold of them, but usually that happened via their portable communicators. Someone dropping by the apartment was new and, from the looks they saw in each other's eyes, they both seemed to be sharing the same though: bad news of some kind.

"I'll get it," Jack offered, and crossed to the door with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. When she opened it, the woman standing on the other side was the last person in the galaxy she'd ever expected to find there.

"Oh, my God…" Miranda Lawson breathed, looking every bit as stunned herself. "Jack?"

There was a moment of perfect, silent stillness, where the two women just stared at one another, and Shepard looked on in surprise from the kitchen… and then Miranda flew backward across the hallway and slammed into the wall, blue biotics crackling all around her.

"Fucking bitch!" Jack raged, storming out after her and glaring down at her as she sat in a lump on the floor.

"What…?" Miranda asked, sounding a bit dazed as she rubbed the back of her head.

"'What?'" Jack repeated, somehow growing even angrier. "'_What?!_' Are you fucking kidding me? The Sol relay's still blown to shit_-_no ships have come or gone since the war ended. Which means you've been on Earth the _whole… fucking… time!_ I've spent months worrying about you, wondering if you were even still alive, and you were _here_, and just ducking me? So why show up now? Finally come by to make it official, and tell me to piss off once and for all? Get a good laugh at seeing how much it hurt?"

Miranda's eyes cleared, and began to glow with the fire Jack had seen in them so many times before. "Oh, yes, how stupid of me-especially when I see now how anxiously you've been awaiting my return."

"What are you talking about?" the younger woman practically spat.

"I know you have no concept of modesty, Jack, but I still doubt you went out this morning dressed like that."

Jack's anger momentarily gave way to confusion, and she looked down at herself. Barefoot, with boxer shorts and a loose mesh tank that was very nearly long enough to reach the bottoms of her breasts. Although from where the cheerleader sat staring up at her, it probably wasn't covering much of anything. "Well… no," she admitted, still confused. "I just got up, like, twenty minutes ago. So what?"

"So: I didn't come here looking for you, you twit. I already tried that-a lot-and it got me exactly nowhere. This is supposed to be Shepard's apartment. I came looking for _her_-and there she is, back there, and interestingly enough, looking only slightly less nude than you. So exactly how long did you wait on me before finding yourself the next-best thing? Three months? Six?"

"Hey! 'Next-best thing'?" Shepard demanded. The other two ignored her.

"It's… It's not like that," Jack said, her anger completely gone now as it dawned on her how this must look. "We're friends. That's it. She's got her room, I've got mine." She reached out a hand to help the other woman up. "I've never stopped waiting on you, bitch."

Miranda's lips slowly curled into a smile. "And I begin to realize just how pathetic my personal life has been when I'm forced to admit that that's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet… and then they were kissing. Kissing with the desperate, relieved passion of two people who'd, deep down, resigned themselves to never seeing one another again. Their hands roamed everywhere, needing to touch as much skin as possible, each needing to reassure herself that this was real, that the woman before her was real flesh and blood, not some hopeful mirage.

Eventually, Jack broke the kiss just long enough to pull her tanktop over her head, then dove back in again as her fingers went to work on Miranda's uniform.

"Jack," her reclaimed lover protested, squirming away and trying to control the questing hands. "Wait."

"I've been waiting for months," Jack growled, annoyed that she couldn't recapture those gorgeous lips despite several attempts, and settling for her neck, instead. "Now shut the fuck up."

"Jack! You do remember we're in a public hallway, don't you? And that Shepard is right through there?"

"Huh?" She stopped and looked around. Oh, yeah. Having Miranda in her arms again, finally, she'd forgotten everything else around her. And honestly, she didn't really care. The cheerleader was right: she had no use for modesty, and if someone else happened to step out of their apartment and find her fucking the hottest woman on the planet, so the fuck what? They'd get a good show, that was for damn sure.

In this case, however, she had a perfectly good bed waiting just a few steps away. But no way was she letting this moment go by without doing a little ball-busting first. In one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do, she forced herself to step back and take her hands away. "Fine-it's up to you, then. You can fuck me here in this hallway, or we can go to my room-"

"Perfect!" Miranda exclaimed, and reached for her again… until Jack's biotics flared, and she found herself pinned back against the wall.

"-and tomorrow you can fuck me against the bar at Dirty Dick's."

"What?!"

"You've never done it in public in your life," Jack smirked. "I don't even need to ask you to know that. Everyone needs to at least once before they die, and you need it even more than most-you're the most uptight bitch I've ever met."

"Stop being absurd-" she said, and struggled to move, but it was no use-she was held fast.

"Trust me: I'm doing you a favor here. The hallway now, or the pub tomorrow. Your choice." She crossed her arms over her chest, smirked even bigger, and dared Miranda to call her bluff.

"Fine," the former Cerberus operative mumbled, her eyes rooted on Jack's feet.

"What was that?" No way could she have heard that right.

"Fine," she repeated, louder this time. Their gazes locked, and Jack saw the flush of embarrassment in those amazing blue eyes. But she pressed on. "Fine, I'll have sex with you in-"

Jack cut her off with a loud, angry buzzing noise. "Wrong! Try again."

The flush spread to her cheeks, and it was more than just embarrassment now. There was anger, which was good, because as great as she was the rest of the time, the princess was a _fantastic_ angry lay. And there was also… excitement? Jack suppressed a chuckle. Yeah, she'd been right-if anyone ever needed this, it was the woman standing before her.

"I'll… 'fuck' you… in public," she bit out between clenched teeth, glaring daggers at her tormenter.

"At…?" Jack prompted. God, she'd missed this chick even more than she thought-she'd never met anyone in her life who was this much fun to mess with.

"At… Dirty Dick's," she practically hissed.

That was all Jack needed. She let the biotic field drop away, and pounced on her girl, actually leaving her feet as her legs wrapped around the taller woman. The move made her notice the lake that had formed between her legs, and she held back another chuckle, hoping Miranda hadn't eaten yet that morning.

Miranda carried her into the apartment, bumping her into the doorframe in the process, since the non-stop kissing didn't exactly let her see where she was going. Then they bumped into something that felt like a table, and there was a crash of something hitting the floor, and Miranda reluctantly pulled her lips away and set Jack down.

"Hey!"

"I don't know where I'm going," she explained, looking around the medium-sized living area. "Where's your room?"

Just then Shepard reappeared, now fully dressed and carrying a pack slung over one shoulder. She took in the sight of the two women, their flushed faces and slightly erratic breathing, and politely didn't comment on either one. Or on the fact that Jack was topless. Which really, wasn't new-no matter how often she asked her not to, she couldn't seem to break her roommate of the habit of emerging from the bathroom after her shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist.

"Hey," the commander said. "So… I've gotta get to work. Jack, Dana mentioned yesterday that she had some new brainstorm about a faster way to fix the grid, so I think I might spend the night at hers so we can go over it. If not, there's Ashley's sofa. So if I don't come home tonight, don't worry about me."

"Shepard-" Miranda began.

"It's fine, Miranda. Really," Shepard assured. "You two need to catch up, so I'll just get out of your way-"

"I want to apologize for what I said about you a moment ago. I was upset and not thinking clearly, but that's no excuse."

"It's fine," Shepard said with an easy smile. "I get it."

"No, it's not fine, but… thank you. It won't happen again. But I did actually come here looking for you, so will you be back tomorrow? There are some matters we need to discuss."

"Sure-tomorrow morning. And I'll knock first," she promised. Then she did something she'd never done before: crossed the room and folded their guest into a hug. "It's so good to see you again, Miranda."

"Yes… you, too," she agreed, and after an awkward moment or two where she didn't seem to know what to do with her own hands, she returned the embrace.

"Where's my hug, bitch?" Jack asked Shepard when it was over.

"I'm not hugging you while you're naked and standing next to your girlfriend."

"She's not my-!" she started to protest, but it was too late-Shepard was gone, and she was talking to a closed door.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Miranda wanted to know.

Jack looked from her, to the door, to the window, and seemed on the verge of trying to make a break for it. Then her gaze landed on Miranda again, and traveled down her body and then back up it… and suddenly they were stumbling toward Jack's room, lips locked and two pairs of hands desperately yanking away bits of black-and-white uniform.

Between kisses, Miranda shoved her away, and an evil smirk of her own crossed her lips. "No."

"No, what?" Jack gasped.

"Not until you say it."

"Say…? Oh."

When she hesitated, the other woman reminded, "I played your game-now you play mine. Say it, or watch me walk away."

Jack almost laughed. The bitch's sexual blackmail definitely needed work. She'd need to come up with threats that doesn't sound like quite so much fun. "Can I say it, then watch you walk into the bedroom?"

A small, triumphant smile. "Acceptable terms."

"Fine-you're my fucking girlfriend. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," she agreed in her typical dry manner, then turned and strode into the near bedroom, taking her time and giving her lover a proper show of it.

Jack was on her almost the moment she reached the bed, shucking out of her boxers along the way and then finishing the job of ripping Miranda's uniform apart. Another quick flash of biotics crackled around them the instant her fingertips touched that epically immaculate skin, though from which of them it came, she didn't even notice. Hands traveled across her ass, over her hips, up along her stomach, coming to rest cupping the most perfect pair of tits of all time. Hardened nipples poked into her palms, and Jack gave them a pinch, eliciting a soft gasp.

"Fuck, I missed this," Jack breathed, pressing her own modest chest tight against Miranda's back and taking a long, slow lick of the nearest shoulder, getting a running start on her goal of tasting every square inch of her girl's body. "I missed _you_. So… fucking… much."

"God, Jack…" Miranda moaned, and grabbed hold of one of those small hands and held it in place on her breast when Jack made to move it. "I need you…"

"Need me to do what?" she teased, and slid her one free hand downward, arriving between the cheerleader's legs and finding her even wetter than Jack herself, which shouldn't even have been physically possible. Fucking genetically-superior cunt. "Need me to do this?"

She gasped again as a single thin finger slid home. "Oh, yes…"

"Or this…?"

This time she cried out as a thumb brushed across her clit, and Jack found she'd reached her limit of teasing… for now. She spun the other woman around, shoved her down onto her back on the bed, and dove for her crotch.

And then froze.

Something had distracted her from her target. She'd have sworn ten seconds ago that even a Reaper knocking on the window wouldn't have distracted her from this, but she'd have been wrong. Because there, just inches below Miranda's navel and a bit to one side, above her hipbone, was a small but perfect copy of the Omega symbol that dominated Jack's back. Inside it was a stylized letter 'J', with the stems of two roses-one white, one black-winding all through the design, their thorns prominent.

Jack couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could barely even think, really. The cheerleader had gotten inked? She'd actually deigned to spoil that (too) flawless body? She didn't even have pierced ears, for fuck's sake! And to mark herself with something of _Jack_, of all people…

Miranda knew exactly what she was staring at, and waited silently to see what her reaction would be.

"Why?" she asked finally, reaching out a hesitant hand toward it, as if she didn't know perfectly well that there'd be no substance, no texture to it. But somehow it wouldn't be real until she'd touched it.

Miranda shrugged. "The war was going badly. Trying to protect Oriana from my father was becoming more and more dangerous. I was scared. Terrified, to be honest. I needed a tangible, ever-present reminder of something good in my life, something I still had to live for."

"And something to remember me by if you found out I'd kicked?"

A nod. "Yes. I had nothing of you, Jack. Not a bit of clothing, or jewelry, or a photo, or even a damned e-mail! We've been… a couple… for over two years now, and with one stray shot you could've been gone from my life, with no sign you'd ever been there in the first place, except for my blasted memories!" She was sitting up on the bed now, nearly shouting, and her eyes looked suspiciously wet. "And then, after both of us somehow survive it all and finally find one another again, you stand there and deny our relationship to Shepard as if I were a _goddamn leper!_" The tears began in earnest, and Miranda fell back and rolled onto her side, facing the other wall.

Oh, shit, now what the hell did she do? Comforting people wasn't Jack's thing. Apologizing wasn't really her thing, either, but apparently she was gonna have to get real good at both, fast.

"Hey," she said, moving up to sit next to the other woman and resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? It was stupid-I _know_ it was stupid. I just… reacted. I've just gotten so used to not depending on anyone that it's weird to have someone now who really means something to me, you know? There's a dumb part of me that still thinks it's… embarrassing, or a sign of weakness or whatever… to let someone get that close. And it's not-I'm not embarrassed by you, or us. I look at you, and touch you, and you're like this absolutely perfect fucking creature. I keep… I don't know… I keep expecting the illusion to end one day, and wake up and find out I'm still thirteen and this was all some fucking headgame they've played on me at Teltin, some new fucking experiment. 'Cause that's about the only way someone like you would ever be interested in a fuck-up like me," she finished in a small, sad voice. "But for as long as the illusion lasts, I've got you, and you don't know how proud I am of that. I'm gonna take you around on my arm and introduce you as my girl to every damn person I know, and it'll take a krogan to knock the shit-eating grin off my face. Unless I've just finally fucked it up for good, that is."

Miranda sniffled, then turned and stared right into Jack's brown eyes. "No, you didn't, and no, it's not an illusion, Jack," she promised, taking the younger woman's hand. "I'm here, with you, and I'm just as lost about why you'd ever be interested in me, but as long as you'll have me I'm not going to question it."

Suddenly Jack's own tears felt very close, and she did the only thing she could think of to hold them off: grabbed Miranda by the hair and pulled her forward into soul-searing kiss. And as she was gently urged down onto the bed, for the first time in her life everything in the galaxy finally seemed just right…

* * *

Jack sighed contentedly and snuggled in tighter against Miranda's side. She wasn't a snuggler… or never had been, anyway… but it felt like it might be time to change that. Who would've thought snuggling could be almost as good as sex if you had the right person to do it with? And it seemed like Miranda liked it just fine, too, lying there staring up at the ceiling, one arm around Jack and looking like the cat that got the cream.

The gaps around the windowshade were beginning to get lighter, and true morning wasn't far away now. They were resting, finally, but Jack didn't want to go to sleep. She was afraid to. Miri could reassure her all she wanted that this was real-life, but Jack had had enough wonderful things dangled before her and then yanked away to not be so quick to trust. Maybe in another thirty, forty years… But for now, if she just stayed awake and held tight to that feeling of skin on skin, it was real enough.

She trailed a hand down Miranda's stomach, past her waist, and ran her fingertips over the new ink. "Looks even better now," she judged, admiring the large, dark hickey she'd covered the tat with. "Autographed."

"You realize that will have completely faded by this time tomorrow. Accelerated healing."

"Fucking tube-bred bitch," Jack grumbled. "Fine, I'll just have to 'sign' it again tonight… and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night…"

"I suppose that doesn't sound _too_ horrible," she admitted with a twinkle in her eye. "Very well, then."

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too." She turned and kissed Jack's forehead. After a few more minutes spent together in silence, she spoke up again: "So… I have to ask… you and Shepard…"

"Yeah…? Where's the question, dumbass?" Jack finally asked when it was obvious she wasn't going to go on.

"How did you end up living here together?"

The younger woman shrugged with her one free shoulder. "After they found her and patched her up, she was in bad shape. Her head, I mean, y'know? So I helped her out. When the shrinks finally decided to cut her loose, I figured I'd better keep an eye on her. Just in case."

"Why? Why you?"

"Well, 'cause I know what it's like to be batshit crazy. And I was around and didn't have anything better to do…" When Miranda just stared at her, Jack dropped the sarcasm. "You really have to ask me that? After everything she's done for me? I wouldn't be here with you right now if she hadn't pulled me off Purgatory, and shown me that there's a better way to live my life than the way I'd been doing it. She saved my life, and my soul. Least I could do was start trying to pay her back."

"She certainly is an extraordinary woman," Miranda agreed. "But you and she never…? Honestly, I'd understand if you had. You had no way of knowing you'd ever see me again, and obviously you both have… needs. I'd understand it, and forgive it-I'd just like to know now, rather than having it come out later-"

"I haven't gotten laid since that time you visited me at Grissom," Jack interrupted. "Remember?"

"'Remember?' I was there for thirty-six hours, and sore for three days afterward."

"'Three days'?!" Jack was outraged. "That should've kept you walking funny for a week, easy!"

"I told you: accelerated healing." Said with a smirk.

The younger woman mumbled something under her breath that was probably unflattering. "Anyway, yeah, that was the last time I got any, until last night. And do you know how hard that was? To stay… faithful, or whatever the fuck? The party they had here when the war ended, it went on for weeks-even the ugly people were getting as much as they could handle."

"Aww… Poor Jack," Miranda sympathized, and kissed her forehead again. "Perhaps we should get you a commendation of some sort."

"Fuck your commendation. I just want credit… for being a great girlfriend."

"Duly noted. You are, in fact, a wonderful girlfriend."

"Good." She nodded in approval at having her greatness recognized. "Besides, I could've thrown myself at her with everything I've got, and Shepard wouldn't have looked twice at me. She's still waiting for Old Blue to come home to her."

"That sounds like… bitterness."

"Bitter? No. Just worried. You know as well as I do that that ship and everyone on it are probably space dust spread across half-a-parsec now. Same goes for most of the fleet that 'escaped' with them. I just don't want her to be alone for the rest of her life."

"And yet she spent the night with 'Dana,'" Miranda reminded. "Are you sure she's still as hung up on the asari as you think? Perhaps she's moved on already."

"Dammit, bitch, do you ever think about anything besides sex?"

"What?! I don't-!"

"You do. Apparently in your world any two people who are friendly with each other must be fucking. Which-sorry to break it to you-isn't true. Dana's some old Alliance buddy of Shepard's. They were roommates at the academy or something. She's an engineer now, part of the project to get the power back on sometime in our lifetime. Shepard's helping her out, using her fame and influence to help her get things they need. Fuck-get your head out of everyone's pants, would you? The last thing I need is you embarrassing me in public with that shit."

"You're insufferable."

"Yeah, and you love it, too."

"Yes, I suppose I do," she admitted, and pulled her lover tighter against her. "Marry me."

Jack began choking. 'On what' was anyone's guess, but when they finally began tapering off, they turned to sputters as she protested, "That's not… You can't… You're not supposed to do it like that… are you? I mean, we can't get married… yet… can we? Don't we need to be together longer… or something?"

Miranda came as close to grinning as she ever got. Jack was so cute when she was flustered. "Relax, dear-you're turning odd colors. Despite the long separations, it's been over two years since we became a couple, and I've known I loved you almost that long, although we've both always been too scared to voice it. I've nearly lost you countless times, nearly died countless others myself, and now that I've got you back I know I never want to be apart from you again. So marry me, and let's spend the rest of our lives together."

Jack just stared at her for several long moments, and Miranda's heart nearly came to a complete stop as she waited to see whether or not she had just irreparably broken the thing that meant the most in the world to her.

At last, Jack reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her communicator, one of the bits of tech that still worked. She pressed a button, held it to her ear, and waited.

"Shepard? … Yeah. … Yeah, thanks, we appreciated it. … Hey, so you're a soldier, so you've got, like, a fancy-ass uniform, right? Something stiff and uptight that makes you look like a total pussy? … Yeah, a 'dress uniform,' that's it. Listen, get it out and clean it up, 'cause I'm getting married, and you're my best man. And if the stripper you get for my bachelor party sucks, you're going on in her place. Later." With that, she ended the call.

Miranda wanted to giggle, laugh, shout out in happiness… but that wouldn't suit her carefully-cultivated image. Also, she had something else to deal with at the moment. "You're _not_ having a stripper."

"Might get two, babe," Jack told her with a wide, evil smile. "One of each flavor: a hot chick, and an even hotter stud. What, you're gonna deny me the last chance I'll ever get to see real live cock?"

"That's it-this wedding's off."

Her fiancé just laughed. "Fuck you, bitch."

"If you must," she sighed, and pulled Jack on top of her. "Just be quick about it, would you? Shepard will be home soon."

_**end**_


End file.
